


Contemplating immortality

by Beckily



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 04:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12573816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckily/pseuds/Beckily
Summary: Just popped into my head.Brief conversation with Solas about immortality.





	Contemplating immortality

“Solas. What would it be like to be immortal?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I wonder at it. Even a mountain doesn't go on forever. Nothing does. Nothing can. Eventually even the sun will burn itself out.”

“A mountain will change, yes, but the essence will always be there.”

“But how long before everything melds together? How many kisses will it take before there is no sweetness left? Ten thousand years? One million years?”

“They had Uthenera. To rest. To come back rested and ready to explore the changes.”

“But how many changes could there be? After two million years? A billion? Maybe if they could travel to the stars. Maybe then it would seem a good thing. To travel such distances, you need to live a long time.”

“There was change. There were wars, powers rose and fell. Gods born, venerated, and torn down. Slaves released to see the world on their own terms.”

“But forever?”

“Never forever. Not really. Some went to Uthenera and never woke. People died in wars, by assassination, from illness or injury. People would change overtime, so that you could not recognize them as the same at all.”

“I cannot see it lasting forever. There would be both a drive for greater and greater heights, seeking newness in a desperation for change that would inevitably end in destruction, and also a slow drift into such stillness and focus that eventually you would be as the mountain or the air; A slow evolution from life to something beyond the physical. Maybe that's where spirits come from. A slow distillation of a single person's focus that completely consumes all that they were.”

“Perhaps.”


End file.
